adulting on christmas

I have this distinct memory of Christmas as a kid...riding in a car for hours to get to Granny's house, of stepping out onto that smooth concrete in the carport that the cousins and I would be skating on later, seeing Granny open up her screen door and leaning out a little, waiting for us to come inside. I remember her hugs, and the smell of stale cigarettes as I walk into her kitchen. I remember the silver tinsel on the Christmas tree, most of which floated to the floor or on top of the presents crowded under the tree. I remember making a pallet on the living room floor to sleep on since the adults got to have the bedrooms. I remember my brother and cousin stealthily opening up their presents Christmas Eve to see what they got, then carefully taping them back up so no one would notice. I remember Christmas morning. I remember the anticipation and the excitement and the joy.

Honestly, I can't really remember the presents I opened (except for that one time I got a hat with a huge sunflower on the front and my cousin Brook got a similar one, plus matching overalls. Those kinds of things are hard to forget...) but I do remember all the feelings. And I miss those. And the people. I miss them too.

Adulting at Christmas is hard. I've heard it gets better when you have kids, and you sort of get to relive that Christmas magic through them, but I'm not there yet. I'm not a kid and have no kids. I'm an adult. Who just ate a double quarter pounder from McDonalds for dinner on Christmas Eve. (And I still can't decide if that's the saddest thing I've ever heard, or if the sadder thing is the fact that someone was working the drive through window at McDonalds on Christmas Eve.)

Is anyone else with me on this? I feel kind of guilty saying this out loud, since Christmas is really about the birth of the Savior of mankind and all that, but the struggle is real ya'll. What is it about this time of year that makes me dislike being an adult?! It's like the best part of being a kid was Christmas-time, and the best part of Christmas-time is being a kid.

Maybe it's just the unholy amount of saturated fats I just consumed, but I'm a little sad now.Will it ever be the way it was? Can it? Should it? And is it all in my head? Did my parents feel then the same way I do now? Will we continue to miss the gift we never knew we had?!



Yeah I really don't know the answers to those questions, but I do know I get to go to my parents' house tomorrow morning, and I will probably show up in my pj's (if only I still had a yellow onesie...), and mom will make breakfast, and the coffee snob in me will be grateful that my parents are coffee snobs too.

I have many things to be grateful for: a beautiful, loving family, a cute puppy dog, a Creator of the universe who sent his only son to die for me, to name a few. I know that tomorrow can be whatever I make of it, and more than likely it will be a good day. Sometimes I just miss the stale cigarettes and silver tinsel, you know?

Anyway, Merry Christmas. Ya filthy animals. ;)

xoxo
Jessi

dear drake,

It's crazy how you can miss someone so much that you never even knew.

I just spent the last five days with my cousin (your mom), Brook. She is the cousin I am probably closest to, because we are the closest in age and share an affinity for Andrew Keegan, Twizzlers and Dawson's Creek (even though she's Team Dawson and I'm totally Team Pacey). She is the cousin that introduced me to Nirvana and Doc Martens and Sonic the Hedgehog. She gave me someone to talk to during family get-togethers. She even broke up with my 7th grade boyfriend for me because I was too scared to do it myself (still sorry about that, Steven). Brook is the most outright, honest, no-nonsense, independent woman I know. I love spending time with her because she reminds me of what  it looks like to be yourself, and to be ok with it.

I also got to meet your dad for the first time. I can't tell you how lucky you are to have Dillan for a daddy. Not only does he adore your momma, he is also hard-working and faithful and kind. I am so proud to be a part of his family now too. And that includes his parents, your grandparents. They feel like home, and I loved them the second I met them.

When I heard about what happened, that you were born unexpectedly last Monday, straight into Heaven, without ever taking a breath on your own, I was absolutely rattled. I had to leave work for the day. My first thoughts were of your parents, who were so excited about you coming into their lives. I didn't understand why this was happening, the same thought I get every time something bad happens to someone good. I don't even try to understand their heartbreak; honestly I think it would kill me.

All I could think about for the next five days was getting to your mom. I know I hadn't seen her in over two years, but now it just seemed so wrong that I would be so far away from her while she was going through something so terrible. I was finally able to make it up there on Saturday, and as soon as I saw her I hugged her and the tears came.

In the next couple of days I learned how truly incredible your parents are, and how blessed I am to be a part of this family of ours. They are among the strongest, bravest, most loving people I've ever known. They were so sad, but stayed so positive. They knew where you were, so they had no fear. They are missing you for now, but know they'll get to see you again one day. Some people's faith is shaken by tragedy. I think theirs was made stronger. I know you were born with and for a purpose. And you died with one too. I won't pretend to completely understand why God doesn't stop bad things from happening to us, but I do know that He can take something really awful and make it into something good.

I'll be honest, I'm still sad that I don't get to meet you and see the man you become. But as hard as it is for us, I trust that you are doing well, looking down on us with that sweet smile. It's probably weird to say this out loud, but I'm kind of jealous of you up there in Heaven with the Big Daddy, and your grandma Julie and Aunt Laura and Granny and so many others I've had to say goodbye to down here. I am glad to know I have family there though, and that you are now and will always be taken care of.

I am reminded of what my friend Hannah taught me a while back when she went through something similar - the best thing we can do to honor your memory is to remember you, love you and move forward with hope. So here I am remembering you. I loved you even before I saw those sweet pictures of you that cousin Kena took. You were perfect and beautiful. I know that pales in comparison to how you are now, truly perfect and beautiful beyond compare...

I really do miss you, but please know that you will never be forgotten. You will always be my sweet baby cousin Drake, and you will always and forever be loved.

xoxo
Cousin Jessi

"Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders, let me walk across the waters, wherever you would lead me..."

i used to be perfect.

I used to be perfect. I made perfect grades, was a perfect child, never got into trouble, never snuck out of the house, never went to parties, never even dated. I didn't drink, I didn't smoke, I didn't do drugs, I didn't have sex.

In college I kept up with all of this and more. I was the president of my campus ministry. I was also the secretary, treasurer, and promotions officer, a small group leader and in the worship band. I was a good person. I really loved people, and wanted to make a difference. And I knew it. I also knew that this meant I would fall happily in love by the time I graduated college and then have 2.5 children by the time I was 30. This is the plan for all good girls, and I stick to plans.

Goodness, however, is not a true compass for life. Yes, we should try to be good and make good choices, but it doesn't actually dictate our path in life, at least not always. There's a lot more to it than that.

Four years ago, almost exactly, I broke up with my fiancee/best friend, left my home in New York, quit a job that I loved and moved back in with my parents in Alabama to start over. This was not my plan, but my plan was not working out for me. And I was angry. I had been so good for so long and had nothing to show for it. It wasn't fair.

So I decided to stop caring so much.

I'm not saying I'm a bad person; in fact, all in all I'd say I'm still a pretty good person. But the last four years have been quite the roller coaster. I have done and said things I am not proud of. I have fallen quite far from the pedestal I once put myself on. I've done the things I swore I would never do. I have made bad choices and hurt people. I've let people hurt me.

And you want to know the darkest part? It's a secret I could never tell anyone, but I'll tell you anyway: I wanted it.

I remember telling my mom a long time ago that I was afraid my story wasn't exciting enough. That I couldn't relate to other people because I had never really done anything bad. I remember her telling me that it scared her that I thought that. I understand that now too.

I wanted to know what heartbreak felt like. I know now. I wanted to know what rejection felt like. I know now. I wanted to know what drunkenness felt like. I know now. I wanted to know what lust felt like. I know now. And it has broken me. Not just me, but the little bubble I had lived in for so long. I could no longer be ignorant, or naive. And that can be a very scary place to be. I found myself longing for the safe little cocoon that I once lived in, far from real life and real choices and real people.

But here I am, smack dab in the middle of real life, where it is not safe, and it is certainly not stable.

The only thing that has always been a constant in my life, besides my family, is God. I have always loved God so, so much. It may sound cheesy and silly, and a lot of my friends now don't really understand it, but even when I wasn't in church I always believed and I always loved Him. There are things I believed growing up that just don't apply in real life, and that may have been a part of my original naivete and ignorance, and I definitely don't want to go back to that, but I have never wanted to leave God. Never. I have just been so afraid that I couldn't do it "correctly" anymore, whatever that means. Following Him is so damn heartbreaking sometimes because it's just so hard and we're just so bad at it. And I really hate being bad at things.

I became so fixated on the fact that I am never again going to be that girl from four years ago, that I was forgetting the fact that I am who I am today, and that's pretty awesome too. Yes, I have made bad choices, but who's to say I can't be even better because of those choices?

In church this morning (p.s. I've finally found another church that feels honest and real and I am so grateful for that) Pastor Ryan was talking about the prophet Haggai and the word he got while they were rebuilding the temple: that "the glory of this present house will be even greater than the glory of the former house." And maybe this is me being self-centered again, but who's to say God can't do the same thing with me? Maybe I can be a better, stronger, less afraid version of myself? With a little more wisdom? And humility? Lots and lots of humility?

I have been so worried that I couldn't be the girl I used to be. And that's so silly. Why should I ever be her again? She was not real. She followed a set of rules because she was scared of the consequences, not because she truly believed in what she was doing. She did what she was supposed to do, not because she was truly following the example of Jesus, but because she was looking forward to the reward. That is no way to live. Or at least, it is no way to live well. It's certainly not the way God wants us to live.

Now, I am so glad to be broken. I am so glad to be teachable. I am so glad to be wrong. I am so glad to know that when I make mistakes, I can be better off for them. I am so glad to know that I get more than one chance.

I used to be perfect. And I am so glad I'm not anymore.



Love,
Jessi

we are groot.

I recently saw the newest Marvel movie, Guardians of the Galaxy, and it was spectacular. A bunch of misfits and ne'er-do-wells fighting a common enemy for a common good, and they literally save the galaxy. Honestly, I was pretty skeptical that I would even like the movie that much, and I'm a huge Marvel fan. I just wasn't sure it would really come together in the end, and I wasn't sure the storyline would even be that entertaining for me. I was pleasantly surprised.

My favorite character was Groot. He's basically a huge tree (literally - he's called a Flora Colossus) who can only say the phrase "I am Groot." (Well, actually, he is saying a lot of things, but we simple-minded folk only hear "I am Groot." It takes a more complex brain, like that of Rocket Raccoon, to understand what he is truly saying..but I digress.)

Basically, Groot is misunderstood - a lot. He looks different. He is intimidating. And literally no one can understand him. He is so so so different...."other-worldy" in more ways than the obvious. People assume that because he is so different, and because he is from another world, he can't possibly be one of us. He doesn't think like us, or feel like us, or act like us.  He is, quite simply, not "us."

(Just so you know, a spoiler alert is coming, so if you haven't seen the movie yet, please go watch it, then finish reading this post.)

Towards the end of the movie, the Guardians must do something drastic to defeat Ronan and save everyone else. What ends up happening, is that to save his friends, Groot creates a protective covering of branches to surround them. He used the thing that made him different to help the people he loved, and in doing so sacrificed himself. When Rocket Raccoon understood what he was doing, and what would ultimately happen, he asked Groot, "Why are you doing this?!" His response: "We are Groot."

I'll tell you what, I wept for days after that.

Sometimes I make fun of myself for learning such huge life lessons from movies. Especially comic book movies. But, it happens, like all the time. In this case I learned that no matter how different we seem, or where we are from, we are all from the same tree, so to speak.

I recently had the pleasure of meeting the stunning Kate Bosworth. It was completely random. She just happened to be at a bar that I was at near my hometown. I would like to say I confidently walked up to her and like "Hello, Kate. It is very nice to meet you. I am a huge fan. May I take a picture with you?" But that did not happen. Luckily, I was with a much braver friend, who gave little to no shits about looking like a crazy person, and walked right up to her and asked to take a photo with me.

Kate was very pleasant, even though we were totally interrupting a conversation she was having with her gorgeous husband. She shook my hand as I introduced myself. She smiled. She said she'd be happy to take a photo with me. She literally made my night.

In typical now-a-days fashion, I immediately uploaded the photo to Instagram and Facebook. I was so excited. I was not, however, prepared for the comment feed that followed.

"What in the world happened to her face?"
"Do her features look a little alien to you?"
etc, etc.

I was absolutely mortified.

What if she somehow sees this photo (that I've already tagged her in) and she sees these comments?! How horrible! I was baffled that anyone, let alone my friends, could ever say such nasty things about another human being.

Of course, thinking about it later, I realized that this happens all of the time. I'm guilty of it too, much to my own disappointment. We somehow think that because these people seem like they live in another world (i.e. "Hollywood") they are somehow different than "us." They don't mind if we make fun of what they do to their faces (even though they probably had work done to cover another insecurity that someone else made them feel bad about). They don't mind if we make fun of the way they speak or the way they walk or the clothes they wear or the work they do.

They aren't "us" right?

But that night, I shook Kate's hand. She smiled at me and said "Hello" before turning back to have a drink with her husband. I hate to break it to you, but she is actually quite like "us." She just had more money to get the plastic surgery to get rid of the things she didn't like. All I could afford was the concealer to hide my acne, and the tweezers to get rid of my unibrow.

In the end, I'm no better than any of the people who said those things about Kate. It just seemed so personal because I met her. I will tell you now though, I will be much more mindful of the things I say about other people, no matter how distant from me they seem. Because "We are Groot," after all, and I honestly can't see it working any other way.

Love,
Jessi

all alone in a crowd of people.

I remember one of my favorite parts about living in New York was being able to walk down Broadway at lunchtime, people swarming all around me, and no one even noticed I was there. It was wonderful. That was my alone time. That was my time to process and think.

I’m an introvert, all the way. I need alone time to recharge, or else I get really sad, depressed even. Not everyone works that way, but I do. I love to be alone. In fact, I am sitting in a Mexican restaurant, eating all by myself, amongst the sorry stares I’m sure I’m getting, because I truly don’t mind being alone.

The recent death of the great Robin Williams has shaken me to my core. I know, it’s horrible, because with everything else going on, with children being decapitated in the middle east and the Ebola virus running rampant and killing too many people to count, the thing that I feel most grieved about is the death of this one man.

Except he wasn’t just one man to me, not really. Peter Pan. Dr. Patch Adams. Jack. Mrs. Doubtfire. Professor Keating. Genie. Sean Maguire. Allan Parish. Just to name a few. So many men that I adored, that I grew up with. And I feel horrible, because as well as I thought I knew “him,” I had no idea that he was so sad. The man who put on a smile on a million faces was sad. It haunts me. You just never know.

Maybe it’s rattled me too because this is not the first time someone I’ve loved has chosen to end their life. I have had friends and family members commit suicide. Each time leaving me both angry and hurt, if that’s allowed. My first reaction is anger. “How dare he leave me.” “She was supposed to be at my wedding.” “Does she not realize how much this will hurt me.” Me, me, me. I almost always forget to think about what they were feeling, and concentrate instead on my immediate emotions. Betrayal. Anger. Despair.

Those feelings quickly turn around though, and then I feel guilty. Did I not listen to her? Did I not call him enough? Did she not realize how much I needed her in my life? Clearly this is all my fault. If only I had done more...if only I had paid more attention...

So I’ve decided that suicide sucks. It just does. Cause the fact is, I have no frickin clue what was going on in her head. I don’t know why he did it. I don’t know why she didn’t just talk to me. And it sucks. Because I didn't know. And I feel like I should have known. We should have known. And I know I’m out of my mind thinking this. It has nothing to do with me, really. But I can’t help thinking it. I can’t stop thinking it. How much of this can we help? Is it purely chemical? Is there really nothing we can do? I can’t handle it. And don’t tell me to just pray. I mean, I’ll pray, I will. But Jesus didn’t call us to be his hands and feet for nothing. And I know we aren’t supposed to use them to just pat a back and walk away. That just can’t be what he meant.

Mr. Williams apparently once said that what sucks is not to be alone, but to be in a crowd of people and feel alone. And as much as I enjoyed my strolls down Broadway, I think I can understand that. Because even though I enjoy my “alone” time, I know that if I ever needed to, I’d have a friend I could call and talk to, one who I really related to. I also know that even when I’m “alone,” I’m never truly alone. I believe there is a God out there who hangs out with us, like all the time. It’s definitely our choice to believe He’s there, but I really don’t think that changes the fact that he is there.

And sure, sometimes that thought sucks too. I mean, I know God was there with Mr. Williams when he tied that belt around His neck, but He sure didn’t intervene and be like “Hey Buddy, maybe you should put that belt down.” Which kinda pisses me off too, to be perfectly honest, but I can’t exactly question an omniscient being, can I? Maybe he sees something greater coming out of this. Maybe this will raise more awareness about the millions of others suffering from depression. Maybe Robin Williams’ death will in turn save thousands of others.

I dunno. It still sucks. We ain't ever had a friend like you.

Rest in peace Mr. Williams. You truly were one of the great ones, and you'll always be remembered as such.

feeling inspired.

I've finally started acting on a dream I've had for a while - start a photography series centered on people who inspire me. I've just posted my first "Inspired By" story on the Casara Photo blog, and I'd love for you to check it out. It's the story of Hannah, and her journey through motherhood, infertility, loss, and her unwavering faith through it all. Hannah has taught me to see beauty all around me. Her story is also helping to connect people who may be feeling alone in their struggles. If you're looking for some inspiration, or maybe you're coping with a loss of your own, I highly encourage you to read her story.

Love,
Jessi

hello, dreamer.

Good morning, friends.

Can I just say how nice it is to be doing this again? I realize in my last post how much of a whiner I was being...mornings...jobs...eek. But really I am incredibly excited about what the next few years hold for me.

I feel selfish saying that I want more out of life, because I truly am blessed, but that really is both the pro and con of being a dreamer isn't it? One the one side, I have these beautiful thoughts and aspirations of good things - and not just for me - I truly do find joy in helping people and showing people how beautiful their lives are.

My passion is photography. Something inside me comes alive when I snap that shutter. It is raw and honest and good. I get to capture a moment that was once fleeting. I get to show a mother her expression when she looks at her newborn. I get to remind a husband how much his wife adores him. I get to bring out the joy kids feel when their only job is to be loved by their parents. And I do it every time I take a picture. I love it.

But like I said, being a dreamer can have it's dark side. Sometimes you feel like you're living an unfulfilled life. You have all of these beautiful hopes, but part of you realizes that not all of them may come to pass, and that leaves you a little sad inside. We feel like the rabbit in the cage...we have our food and water and shelter, but what of those meadows and streams and sunshine? Isn't that what we were made for?

I truly believe that everything God made is good, or at least it's supposed to be. And I think He made us to do good things. I think we are the choices we make and both our actions and intentions frame us and mold us. And, honestly, I think our main job in life is to match our intentions to His. I think that He is the biggest dreamer of us all. I think whatever we can dream He can dream bigger. And that excites me.

So maybe the best thing I can do right now, is just say "I'm in." Right now it is my job to make good choices. Love God, love people. Make my actions match my intentions, which ultimately match His intentions. What better dream is there?

I know there's more to it than that, but I'm still trying to figure it out too. I do know though, that following that dream makes me a lot less sad. So that's a start.

Love,
Jessi

morning people.

I've decided I need to be one of those morning people. I mean, think about it. Morning people make the world go round. Bakers, baristas: morning people. So here I am at 6:30 am trying to be a morning person. I'm hoping this bagel and coffee kick in soon.

I want to do things. Mostly, I want to write beautiful things and photograph beautiful people. And write about the beautiful things that those beautiful people do. Is that so much to ask? Can I please just sit here all day and write about things that make me cry and smile and then go through all of the photographs I took this weekend and share them with the world in hopes of bringing a smile to someone else's face?

I want to help make the world go round too.

I have a full time job though so I have to leave soon. I have to sit in front of a computer writing about things I don't really care about, and looking through photos that I don't really care about, and answering phones that I surely do not care about. Because I have bills and responsibilities and whah whah whah.

Surely this is not God's will for me.

My pastor did this super annoying message series at church the last few weeks. He said that God's will is whatever. Like, whatever you're doing (as long as it's not killing, lying, cheating, etc) can be in the will of God. And we should do it well, do it "as unto the Lord." Because wherever we're at, if we're claiming to know Christ, we need to act like Him.

Yeah that's super annoying. I mean it's true, but it's annoying.

I want to quit and run away and then come sit in Starbucks and write forever and forever. But writing does not pay the bills my friends, at least not yet. You gotta do whatcha gotta do. Or something.

Anyway, I say all of that to say that I'm going to try and do both. I'm gonna wake up at the crack of dawn so I can do what I love, and then go to work and try to do it the best I can, so I can pay my bills and be responsible (and pay for my coffee and bagel at 6:30 in the morning) so I can keep doing what I love to do.

I sincerely hope that one day this is my job. In the meantime, look at how cute this is:

Love,
Jessi